


We Might Be Hollow But We're Brave

by ratatat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), brief description of depersonalization, its a shaving fic thats it, the intimacy of shaving the person you love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratatat/pseuds/ratatat
Summary: After arriving at Daisy's safehouse, Martin tries to shave. Jon helps.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139





	We Might Be Hollow But We're Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it!
> 
> There's a brief description of depersonalization in this fic, although it's nothing too graphic. If that bothers you though, just skip the paragraph that starts with "and then... and then" and pick back up at "'Martin?' he hears Jon ask". It literally just is one paragraph, but still, tread carefully if that's something you're sensitive with. 
> 
> Title is from 400 Lux by Lorde because it has JonMartin vibes I don't take criticism lmao

Martin is… tired. It’s strange. He’s been tired for months now, and yet somehow this feels different. He was tired of Peter, tired of Elias and his games, tired of Jon trying to weasel his way back into Martin’s life, threatening to destroy all Martin’s hard work. Martin was tired of work, most of all. But now… now he’s just _tired_. He realizes, as he watches Jon search through cupboards and cabinets in the kitchen to see what food he can scrounge up, that this is a tired he can fix. He can just go to sleep. Close his eyes, drift off. 

“There’s- there’s not really that much in here,” Jon tells him sheepishly. As though it’s his fault that Daisy forgot to stock up her safehouse with groceries. 

“That’s alright. We can go into town tomorrow, find something to make.” _We_ . There’s a we, now, Martin realizes. God, it feels so _good_ to be part of something again. 

Jon looks at him, smiling softly, like he’s just realized the same thing. “Yeah. We can go tomorrow. There’s tea in here, though. I’ll make you some.”

The tea is warm and bitter, since Daisy didn’t have any sugar or milk in the kitchen. Martin didn’t care, though. Jon made it. Jon made something for him, and it was warm and nice and Jon was right next to him at the dinner table, trying to come up with something to talk about that wasn’t about work or Elias or Martin’s time in The Lonely. It was terribly endearing, and if Martin didn’t already love Jon he’s sure this is what would make him. They talk for hours about completely meaningless things. Things Martin hasn’t thought about in what feels like forever. The weather, their favorite books, their worst teenage phases (Martin was surprised to find out that Jon had a punk phase at 15 and almost exclusively listened to Green Day and Against Me!). 

They talked and talked until the tea ran cold and their throats dried. Martin didn’t care. 

“It’s getting dark,” Jon says eventually. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Martin suddenly remembers how tired he is. “Yeah, yeah. We should brush our teeth first, though.” _We_ . As though they do this together, brush their teeth and go to bed, like a couple. _Are_ they a couple? Martin thinks so, maybe. Jon pulled him out of The Lonely- that has to mean something. Jon knows how Martin feels about him. So where does that leave them? Is it too much to assume that this is something they can even do, drink tea together and go to bed together and wake up together? How much is Martin allowed to have?

“Yeah, yeah. We can do that,” Jon says, interrupting his thoughts. He’s smiling at Martin again, all soft and sweet, like he cares about Martin has to say. Huh. That hasn’t happened in… a long time.

Maybe they are a couple, after all. 

  
  
  


Brushing their teeth is easy, but then Martin looks in the mirror and realizes that he’s got a rather annoying amount of stubble on his face. He opens the medicine cabinet, hoping to find something. Would Daisy even have shaving supplies? That seems unlikely- who would they even be for?

There’s a razor, shaving cream, and aftershave sitting in the middle of the cabinet. Martin has no idea why or what this means, but decides not to question it. He takes it out.

“What are you doing?” Jon asks.

“I want to shave. The stubble is itchy.”

“Oh.” Jon looks- off. Is he blushing?

“Is something wrong?” Martin asks.

“No, nothing. It’s just- you, you look, uh, very nice without shaving,” Jon stutters. “You look- you know. Dignified. Sophisticated.” 

A teasing smile appears on Martin’s face, and before he can question it, he says, “Jon. Are you saying I look hot with a beard?”

“N-not hot! More, more attractive, sure, but you’re- you’re- that’s just- you’re already attractive, from a… you know. An objective standpoint. The, the beard just, uh, adds to the effect, I guess.”

Jon is such an endearing mess. Martin loves him. He doesn’t say that, though. Doesn’t know where they stand on the whole Love Question. 

“Well, as much as I appreciate the compliment, I want to shave it off. Look more like myself and all that.”

Jon nods. “Should I- should I go?”

Martin hums, inspecting his beard in the mirror to see just how bad it is. “If you want, but I don’t really care.” It’s not as bad as he thought, but still itchy and annoying. He’s never had a beard before and isn’t interested in one. 

And then… and then… Martin looks into his eyes in the mirror. He knows, logically, that this is his reflection in the mirror. That’s his eyes, his hair, his glasses, his face. But he hasn’t bothered to really look at himself in such a long time that it almost doesn’t register that this is him. His hands shake a little. 

“Martin?” He hears Jon ask.

Martin sighs, grateful for the distraction. Looking at the mirror is difficult. Looking at Jon is not. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

Martin laughs. What a question. Does Jon mean ok as in ‘how are you dealing with me killing your boss and us running away together to Scotland’ or ‘are you ok with finally being with the love of your life but not knowing where you stand’ or ‘are you ok with the new realization that you can’t look in the mirror without feeling like you’re not part of yourself’?

“I mean… relatively speaking, I’d say yeah. I’m not dead or at the Institute, so I’m alright.”

“You just- you spaced out for a second. I was worried.”

Jon was worried? About him? 

That nagging question is back. _What does that make us what do you feel for me do you love me_ \- Martin begs it to shut up. 

“I…” He sighs, rubs his face for a second. “Looking in the mirror is… hard for some reason. I’m not sure why.”

Jon swallows, looking nervous. “I could- I could shave you, then. If you want.”

“You’d want to do that?”

“Martin, you’ve had a very difficult time. Whatever helps you feel like yourself again, I’ll do it.”

Martin’s heart warms at that. 

_What am I to you do you love me I love you I love you so much-_

“Sure,” Martin says. 

Jon nods once, determined. If Martin’s heart wasn’t in his throat he’d laugh at how cute he is. Jon opens the cupboard under the sink, finding a washcloth before running it under the warm water of the sink.

“Can I- can I touch you?” Jon asks, nervous and unsure. 

“Y-yeah,” Martin says, feeling as nervous as Jon looks. He doesn’t point out that he would have to touch Martin to shave him regardless. 

The first touch of the warm washcloth makes Martin’s breath hitch. It’s the warmest thing he’s felt in a while. Christ, how sad is that?

Jon rubs the washcloth along his cheeks, his chin, down his throat. Martin swallows.

Jon takes the shaving cream in his hands, spreading it around his fingers. “I can… this is ok, right?” Jon asks. Martin nods.

The washcloth was warm, but Jon’s hands are _hot_ , almost scorching. Martin forgot what it felt like to be touched by someone else. His hands spread the cream along his cheeks and under his lips and nose and his neck, and _God_ Martin feels like he’s going to burn up inside. Jon’s breath is steady, but Martin can tell that Jon feels something, too. His hands are shaking. 

_What am I to you is this an act of love or kindness or both who are you do you love me_ -

The razor, now. It’s cool, and Martin’s relieved that the worst part is over. It glides over his skin, with Jon taking time to rinse it before going back to shave more. It glides down his throat- why is Martin obsessing over his throat?- and it occurs to Martin that, if this were someone else, it would be so easy to slit his throat. Just a little slip of the hand, and Martin could die. Peter would do it, probably. Elias definitely would. Daisy- once he was sure Daisy would, but he’s not so sure now. But Jon, Jon he knows won’t do anything. Jon would nick Martin on the cheek and apologize for the next hour. He loves Jon. He trusts him. 

“Are you ok?” Jon whispers. Martin’s not sure why- there’s no one else here, no one to bother. 

“Yeah. You can keep going. I trust you.” _I love you_. 

Jon takes another washcloth, a little dusty from it’s time spent unused, and wipes Martin’s face dry. He takes the aftershave in his hands, spreading it around like he did with the cream. 

Jon’s hands are still hot, but it’s less of a shock now. It doesn’t stop Martin’s heart from leaping out of his chest, but it’s almost a familiar feeling now that he’s felt it once before. He wonders what it would feel like in other circumstances, with his hand on his cheek, thumb stroking under his eyes. Jon leaning in, pressing his lips to Martin’s. 

“There,” Jon says, just as quietly as before. “All done.”

_I love you, I love you so much. Can you do that again? Do it again but without the excuses, I don’t want an excuse to touch you._

“T-thanks,” Martin says. He feels dizzy. Jon still hasn’t moved his hands from Martin’s cheeks. 

“Martin, I…” Jon says. “I… I want you to know-”

“Yeah?” Martin encourages him. 

“I-” Jon sighs. “It shouldn’t be this hard. Why is this so difficult?”

Feeling brave, Martin brings up his hand to touch Jon’s. Jon gasps, softly. If they weren’t so close Martin wouldn't have heard it.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Martin is surprisingly calm despite feeling like he’s about to combust at any given moment. 

_Is this when you tell me you love me do you love me what am I to you who am I to you who_ -

“I… There’s a reason that I saved you,” Jon says. “That I- that I didn’t have with Daisy.”

“Yeah?” Martin says again. He sounds like a broken record. He wishes he could say something else, something smart and charming and perfect. 

“I love you,” Jon says. He’s staring at the floor, his face burning. “I love you, and I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I do. And I’m sorry, for- for being so late. It shouldn’t have taken me this long.”

“I forgive you,” Martin says. His heart is screaming. _He loves me he loves he loves me he_ knows _me_. 

Martin brings up his other hand, the one not holding Jon’s, and cups Jon’s face. Jon looks up, surprised. 

“I love you, too,” Martin says simply, as though he’s not scared out of his mind, as if he knows what he’s doing. 

And he kisses Jon. It’s a simple kiss, really. Martin’s lips are dry and chapped, but Jon kisses him back anyway. And _oh_ , isn’t that a feeling? He strokes Jon’s cheek with his thumb as he kisses him deeper. He feels… he feels… he feels in love. He feels calm, but his heart won’t stop racing. He feels, as Jon moves his hand to hold Martin’s hair, like he’s loved. Jon loves him. He said so, he told him with words and with kissing and with his hands and with everything. Everything he’s done, Martin realizes, is because he loves Martin. 

Jon breaks the kiss first, looking up into Martin’s eyes. “I love you,” he says, and he’s smiling and giddy. “I love you!” He brings his arms around Martin’s waist, hugs him tightly, giggling into his neck. “I love you,” his words are muffled by the fabric of Martin’s jacket, but he feels them all the same. 

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin’s smiling too. “I love you, too.”


End file.
